


Intimate Collections

by indi_indecisive



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Fingerfucking, First Time, Human Zenyatta, M/M, Other, Semi-Public Sex, Shibari, Tentacle Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 22:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13867302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indi_indecisive/pseuds/indi_indecisive
Summary: A place for the smaller, sexual drabbles to go.





	1. Mcyatta

Spread open, waiting, wanting; the once monk was no stranger to the tantalizing desires of the heart, or rather the slick between legs. Fingers slip between silicon folds, the thumb of which pressed harsh against a sensitive node, causing the omnic to squirm in delight– pleasure coursed through his frame, sweet, cloying electronically induced pulses that urged him to continue.

Albeit slowly, relishing the squelch of his fingers, near shaking in his frame at the sound, and to the intentional voyeurism.

“A-ah, Jesse.” He’d push his fingers in deeper, legs spread wide to give the man the best view he could see. Zenyatta would be bold enough to add a third finger, shaking, synthetic voice wavering in pleasure– “Are you going to fuck me, or must I do this myself?”


	2. Doomyatta

Quiet, he knew he should have been so, synthetic cords moaning a symphony of pleasure, pressing facial plate to the crook of his neck did little to nowt in muffling him; Akande’s fingers traced his wiring by memory, too skilled, and the viciously delicious scrape of teeth along neck wires was lewd in itself. 

Perfection was the way Akanade had laid him gently onto the boardroom table, looked at the slick and wanton robot beneath him with a breed of love in his eyes that overloaded sensors, and fucked him the way Zenyatta needed it. 

He attempted to stifle another moan, fingers curling tight into the mans shoulders, desperately rolling his hips for more friction; the squelch of a cock in his cunt was truly too much, or having such a weight against him, or perhaps it was knowing that the room one over was hosting a meeting that drove him to a moaning mess of a man. “Akande, please,” A broken man, synthetic cords produced a white noise of pleasure, “– more.”


	3. Hanyatta

Lips calloused, weathered and aged, pressed with softness against the crook of neck and shoulder; he shivers, a graze of teeth along sensitive skin urging him forward with the near same amount of arching enthusiasm as the teasing fingers sliding between his folds. He squirmed, fingers curl tight in the mans shirt, pushing his thighs together with a low, needy whine.

“Hanzo,” he takes a breath, eyes fluttered shut, nearly melting once the man nips at his neck, and apologies quick with peppered, ticklish kisses up along his jawline.

Slowly, shakily, he rolls his hips against that ever teasing hand; Hanzo murmured such sweetness to him, nipping soft the once-monk earlobe, chuckling soft at a particularly quick snap of Zenyatta’s hips forward in retaliation to the almost removal of the man’s fingers from him. He’d take a breath, sharp, turning his head to press a kiss against the corner of the mans’ mouth. “You are–” speech stuttered, words lost on the tongue, favoring the surprise of a giggle when Hanzo saw himself bold enough to slip a finger inside of his lover.

He gave a huff, patting the other’s chest, brows furrowed and pouting.

“– Unfair.”


	4. Reapyatta

He was a sweetness that wrapped itself heavily under the guise of death to think himself a shroud of darkness than anything else; a cloaked mask of hatred who took love far and few if he did not crush it beneath inhuman hatred. His touch would be akin to tar on skin, where fingers rested, beautiful and intricate blooming blood blisters formed; and where sinew lips touched, skin felt chaffed and itched.

He was a poison to himself, to the world, bleeding only the thin substance of existence; hopes were gilded in depression, the future was an massing black smoke of nano-machines, picking and reforming. Less an unrequited love and more a despited kind of love.

The monk was to mirror none of these things; he was akin to sweetness and light, holy, ‘pure’. Perfect would be a loose concept with arms ‘round his waist. Arching his back to the slick curl of smoking tendrils sliding along slicker thighs, arching his neck back as sharpened teeth grazed across delicate skin. Zenyatta were a thousand things to Gabriel, even twisting and turning with a cock inside of him, he would never be submissive and docile.

He was a fighter, a taker, a breaker and a builder; he would make his life duty to rip apart all that Gabriel was and build him back together, strip him of insecurities to better balance the once-man. Reaper knew the dangers, knew of his persistence, knew the monk was capable of twisting his way into chasms where shriveled hearts lay. Zenyatta would not be consumed, he would consume, a holy man untainted with the darkness squirming on his skin like a tattoo.

Zenyatta’s lips were soft along his collarbone, a stark and startling contrast to the harshness in which he sucked and nipped a beautiful, blooming bruise collar along his flesh. Bruises were akin to flowers, Zenyatta would press a daisy chain around Gabriel’s neck, a collection of fresh picked love placed where it shouldn't; such a thing couldn’t have been love, but Zenyatta never felt more alive.

Teeth would catch on the collarbone, tongue swirling across the spot, and breathlessly, “Gabriel.”


	5. Reapyatta

The wraith was tendrils of black smoke with a thickness to his nano machines akin to tar, but were a softness as they caressed sensitive wiring. Wrists bound, struggling bleeds a concept of a forgotten tongue, slotting perfectly between the thrumming body; Gabriel's hands bloom a bruising smudge on sun scorched and dirty washed frames, thick blackened tendrils slip along the slick of silicon folds, inserting and stuffing, wrapping around sensitive nodes.

Stimulation was an overload of everything– light was too much for his optics to process, touch became a foreign concept, the thick tendrils pumping in and out of his pussy were encompassing, just as Gabriel's touches were. The omnics body hummed in response, hands buzzed, the grip on the other’s shoulders only slacken when monstrous lips press against every inch of a warm, buzzing face plate.

“Gabriel I–.” Too many wants, he’s never been a creature of wanting before; unless questioning constitutes as wanting. The moment Gabriel snatched him, picked him from the world with nary a thought to disruption, placed a sweetening trust to allow connection– want, want, want.

Zenyatta wanted to help. Zenyatta wanted to integrate their systems– he wanted Gabriel to stop teasing him, to fuck him with his cock until Zenyatta’s metal thighs glistened with his slick and he leaked Gabriel's semen.

Silence was a command, the press of lips against the tubing of his neck, sharpened teeth scrape against the metal– unpleasant the sensation, akin to nails on a chalkboard, chipping him away. Tendrils twist sensitive wires, the squelch of his own juices drove processors into over-drive, tranquility a reach beyond desperation for cock. “– Gabriel.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Buy me a loot box?](https://ko-fi.com/A0034NN)


End file.
